


Keep This Moment by and by

by connyhascontrol



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF
Genre: Christmas fic, F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connyhascontrol/pseuds/connyhascontrol
Summary: It's Christmas, and thanks to a snow storm Trixie can't fly home. A kind almost-stranger offers her a place to stay.
Relationships: Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Comments: 32
Kudos: 130





	Keep This Moment by and by

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mattepinkallshades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades/gifts).



> Merry Christmas tiiiiiime! Happy Holidaaayyyys! I hope you all enjoy whatever it is you're celebrating, and you can get some peace and quiet at the end of this year. This is my Christmas present for [mattepinkallshades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades/pseuds/mattepinkallshades). Thank you for bringing me so much joy and keeping me going.
> 
> The title is taken from Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong.

Trixie frowns, as if that will help her hear the announcement over the nervous chattering and the outright complaints of her fellow travellers. She picks out the words _airport closed_ and _no departures_ , and everyone at the gate makes noises of discontent at varying volumes. In front of the windows the snow has worked itself up into a storm. Trixie still thinks they’re all being dramatic. This is New York, it’s not like they’ve never seen snow before. 

The announcement is still going, the tinny voice saying something about hotel vouchers at the help desk, but Trixie isn’t listening anymore. She picks up her guitar case and carry-on. Then she walks purposefully towards the Delta Sky Lounge to find a spot to make arrangements for the night. She’ll ask what flight she’s being rebooked on once the stampede of everybody else doing exactly that has slowed down. 

As she retreats into the quietest corner she can find, a notification pops up on her phone, informing her that her flight was cancelled. Trixie snorts. She should have been in the air, on the way home to LA, two hours ago. Thanks for nothing. 

Trixie is used to things going wrong when she’s flying. At least today she doesn’t have to be anywhere else. She doesn’t have to be _anywhere_ for a whole week. It’s December 23rd, and her manager wished her happy holidays in a tone of voice that clearly said “Don’t you dare bother me for the next week, and for God’s sake, unwind, you freak.”

It’s not her fault that she doesn’t have plans for Christmas. Trixie always says this, but this year it’s actually true. She was supposed to go to Chicago and spend the holidays with Pearl’s family. They had planned the trip months in advance; they had to, with both their schedules being as busy as they are. Starting with their first date, they would type a P or a T into their respective calendars whenever they could find the time in between photo shoots, tours, and fashion weeks. 

Trixie googles the hotel she’s been staying at the last two nights and taps on the phone number in the search results. She doesn’t even get to explain her current predicament before the chipper voice at the other end informs her that unfortunately, they’re fully booked for the night. No, she can’t have her old room back. Or any room. _So_ sorry.

That’s maybe for the best; it’s a long way from JFK back to Manhattan. Trixie really only needs a place to crash for the night. It doesn’t have to be nice. The nearest hotel is full too. Of course it is, she’s not the only one looking for emergency accomodation. An itch of irritation starts to flare up in her throat, and Trixie swallows it down. She’s not easily thrown. She travels without an assistant when she’s not on tour, and she does fine on her own. Trixie is a problem solver.

When Pearl told her two months ago that they needed to talk, Trixie thought she was equally likely to break up or to propose. It turned out to be the former, and Trixie took it maybe not stoically -- she’s not a sociopath -- but without any major emotional outbreaks. 

The next day she spent half an hour composing a tweet about the mutual amicable agreement they’ve come to, that she wishes Pearl nothing but the best for the future, and that they’re remaining friends. Since then, they’ve met up once more, to exchange a few things they'd left at each other’s apartments, and that was the last they heard of each other.

More than anything, Trixie was annoyed that the holiday plans she had paraded around in front of her friends who like to tell her she’s a robot where the only setting is _work_ were pulled out from underneath her feet like an emotional maturity rug. She had been so smug about getting serious enough with her girlfriend to not only meet the parents, but spend Christmas with them. And now she was starting from square one again. 

“For a lesbian you’re doing a terrible job at that whole marrying the first woman who looks at you thing,” Bob told her with a lopsided grin over the pint of ice cream she showed up with on Trixie’s doorstep the next day.

“Are you offering?” Trixie asked with raised brows, and Bob didn’t even dignify it with an answer. She just snorted and stuck her spoon in Trixie’s ice cream again.

All of it means that for once she won’t have to hurry packing for the next trip as soon as she gets home. She’s searching for another hotel when a notification pops up. This time it’s not useless information about her cancelled flight but a message.

_Hi, it’s Katya. I hope you made it to your flight in time!_

Trixie sits up straight. Katya actually texted her. 

She spent the last two days doing press for her new album. When her manager forwarded her a last minute request for a quick magazine photo shoot she could squeeze in just before her trip home, Trixie agreed, as she always does. The weather had picked up by the time she arrived, and the hair and makeup artist couldn’t make it. The photographer breathed a sigh of relief when Trixie wrestled her tightly packed suitcase open and got to work herself.

When they were in the middle of the shoot and Trixie got a stubborn strand of hair sticking to her lip gloss, she spotted Katya lingering in the background. Trixie had heard the photographer say something about _the assistant_ when Katya had first walked in.

"A little help here?" she sputtered through her hair. 

Katya looked surprised, but immediately sprang into action, first pulling Trixie's hair back and then refreshing her lip gloss for her. For the rest of the shoot Katya stayed just out of shot, ready to jump in and help Trixie rearrange her various dresses and touch up her powder. When they took a break Katya even went on a hunt for a straw for Trixie's coffee so she wouldn't ruin her makeup.

They didn't chat for a long time, but Katya talked to Trixie like they were co-workers meeting at the water cooler, not like Trixie has been a big name in country music for ten years now, and becoming one in pop music too. Which she is. But Katya met her at eye level, despite being easily a foot shorter than Trixie in her heels.

In a brief moment of insanity, Trixie scribbled her phone number on a napkin and pressed it into Katya's small, bony hands. She immediately realized how stupid that was. Trixie was almost on her way home, with no imminent plans to return to New York.

Well. She was staying a little longer anyway.

 _I made it but the flight is no longer happening,_ she texts back. _Any recommendations for things to do at JFK? Looks like I might be here a while._

Katya replies almost instantly, and not just with a cursory _oh no_ , but actually asks if Trixie needs any help.

_Thanks, but I'm fine, I just need to find a hotel for the night._

There's no reply, and Trixie goes back to looking for a place to stay. Just as she's about to call a hotel she wouldn't even look at under normal circumstances, a new message comes in.

_If you like you can crash at my place._

Trixie's thumb still hovers over the call button, but then opens Katya's message instead. 

Trixie hasn't _crashed_ with anyone since college. She quite frankly doesn't need to and always prefers the privacy and anonymity of a hotel. But it is very nearly Christmas, and the only thing more depressing than being on a plane and going home to spend the holidays alone would be being stranded at a dingy airport hotel with no idea when she'll get home.

She's sure her manager would have some things to say about Trixie considering to stay with a virtual stranger. Her manager also doesn't know about several hook-ups that in hindsight all appeared to be serial killer setups, and Trixie made it out of all those alive. None of those hook-ups had been as hot as Katya.

She’s the kind of effortlessly beautiful woman that Trixie had envied, despised, and lusted over when she was growing up. These days Trixie is confident in her own beauty and delusional enough to think that nobody is out of her league. She just got out of a relationship with an internationally sought-after model after all. But Katya with her chiseled cheekbones, stylishly understated clothes and minimal makeup apart from the bright red lipstick seemed unaware of how gut-wrenchingly stunning she was.

Trixie wasn't looking, but she's also not blind, and she notices when a gorgeous woman checks her out. She's assuming Katya has something specific in mind and isn't just offering Trixie a place to stay out of the kindness of her heart. Trixie doesn't take it personally. A bed with Katya in it is a lot more enticing than an empty hotel bed, even a good one.

*

Trixie probably caught the last Uber that's still going, and she makes sure to tip generously. The storm has only gotten worse. With the guitar case in one hand and her carry-on bag in the other -- her checked luggage stuck at the airport -- Trixie presses herself against the door of Katya's apartment building while she rings the bell. When it buzzes open, Trixie nearly stumbles and falls inside. It's cleaner than she had expected. The snow had made it impossible to see how nice (or not) this part of Brooklyn is, and she's pleasantly surprised.

"Do you need help?" comes Katya's voice from up the stairs, and Trixie hurries to the second floor to meet her.

"No, I'm good," she says when they're already face to face. With a broad, white grin Katya steps back and invites Trixie in with a flourish of her hand. Her face is completely bare now, and she has changed into a soft looking black sweater that hangs on her petite frame like it was draped by a painter. Seeing Katya in socks, Trixie quickly toes off her sneakers, the ones she always wears when she flies because they’re easily taken off and put back on. Katya tells her to drop her stuff by the door, so she does. There are multicolored lights strung around the coat rack, with a tin foil star taped to the top of it.

It’s the only bit of Christmas decorations Trixie can spot. The place is a decent degree of messy, but big enough that it just looks lived in. Trixie prefers that to the shiny, empty surfaces of the modern houses many of her friends and colleagues have in LA. It’s also a remarkably nice place. She had expected either a shoebox or a shared place with a roommate who’s probably gone home for the holidays, but all of this is clearly Katya’s space. Trixie can tell from the dark wood furniture in the living room that’s not quite a set but the pieces complement each other nicely. 

There’s a breakfast bar with a laptop open, and several cups placed next to it. Trixie imagines Katya sitting there in the morning, catching up on emails and feeling a sting of embarrassment when she puts her coffee mug down next to the others, telling herself she’ll get around to the dishes when she gets home from work, knowing full well she probably won't. Trixie used to be like that, back when she spent enough time at home for dishes to pile up. 

After taking in the place, Trixie turns towards Katya. She’s standing in the middle of the room with her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. She’s not looking quite as cool and collected as she did during the photo shoot, and Trixie forces down a smile. 

“This is a really nice place for a photographer’s assistant. Do you have a sugar daddy I should know about?”

“A--” Katya starts, baffled, and then immediately screeches a laugh that fizzles out into a wheeze.

“Sugar momma, then?” Trixie asks with a grin and raised brows, and Katya snorts. 

“I’m not the photographer’s assistant, I’m the magazine’s Assistant Art Director,” she clarifies. 

Trixie’s jaw drops, and a cold sensation runs down her spine as she remembers how she bossed Katya around earlier. She wasn’t _mean_. She makes a point to treat all people she works with well, because she likes to think of herself as a good person, and because word travels fast if you don’t. But Trixie certainly was very succinct in expressing what she wanted. She always is. 

Katya seems unbothered. She’s grinning her toothy grin, and Trixie is thinking hard how to regain her composure.

“So you’re your own sugar daddy, got it.”

“Uh-huh,” is all Katya says. Then she brushes past Trixie into the kitchen and pulls open her fridge. “Beer?”

 _I get it, you’re gay_ , Trixie thinks, and says, “Sure.”

With two bottles in one hand Katya reemerges from behind the fridge door and leads the way to the couch. They toast silently and Trixie takes a swig while Katya only carefully sips at hers. She looks down at the bottle in her hand for a long moment.

“No matter how many times I try, I just can’t bring myself to like beer.”

Trixie honks a laugh, the kind she tries to avoid in public, and sets her bottle down on the coffee table so as to not spill any.

“it’s _your_ beer!”

Katya shrugs. “It was a gift. It’s been in there for months; I just had nothing else to offer you.”

Trixie lets herself smile at that. “Well, that’s very well-mannered of you.” She puts her arm on the back of the couch, her hand behind Katya’s neck. Not touching. Yet. Katya blinks at her a few times with an expression Trixie can’t place. 

“So,” Katya takes another sip of her beer and grimaces, then nods towards the window. It’s completely dark except for the vast amount of snow that hits the glass. “This sucks. Sorry you got stuck here.”

Trixie shrugs with one shoulder. “There are much worse places to be stuck at. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“No problem!” Katya assures her brightly. “Do you know when you’ll get to leave yet?”

Trixie pulls her arm off the back of the couch and sniffs. “Tomorrow around noon,” she says with as much nonchalance as she can scrounge up. 

She perks up when Katya says, “I don’t have a guest bedroom, I hope you don’t mind.” 

“That’s absolutely fine,” she says quietly with a smile.

“I’ll put clean sheets on the bed, and I’ve fallen asleep on the couch plenty of times; I don’t mind sleeping here.”

Trixie can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, which Katya apparently interpretes as protest.

“You’re my guest! You get the bed, it’s totally fine!”

“Sure, thanks,” Trixie mutters and takes another swig of her drink to not let Katya see her disappointment. 

Evidently, Katya is the only kind-hearted, selfless person left in the world and is, against all odds, _not_ trying to sleep with her. It’s not that Trixie thinks everybody should want to have sex with her (although, yes, that too) but she saw Katya’s eyes lingering on her legs as she arranged Trixie’s skirt for her earlier, her fingers brushing her knee and then pulling back like she got burned. Katya is into her, Trixie is sure of it. She just needs to let Katya know that she’s _available_.

There’s an art to it, making herself look small and demure when she’s never been any of those things. Making the other woman feel like it was her idea, like she’s the one seducing Trixie. Put down the beer, and slowly cross your legs. Tilt your head down so you’re looking up from below your lashes. Lick your lips slowly, but not too slowly. Hand brushing your hair behind the ear, pulling it away from your neck. Stretch slightly, make her look at your cleavage.

“God, I’m starving. Are you hungry?” Katya is up before Trixie has registered what she said.

“Uhh. Sure,” she mutters, but Katya is already in the kitchen, pulling open her freezer. The drawer makes a screeching sound that chills Trixie to her bones. Katya doesn’t notice, she’s chattering on, seemingly not caring if Trixie listens.

“My friend Courtney is on another health kick, and this time she decided she’d learn to cook, so she brought over tons of food to get me through the holidays.” She pulls out two tupperware containers, squinting at the lids. “She didn’t label anything though, so I have no idea what these are.”

Trixie feels like she should say something, but Katya is already throwing one of the meals into the microwave and then starts clearing the mugs off the island, precariously balancing them in the sink instead. It’s like somebody has wound her up and she has to keep moving until the cogs in her mechanism stop, waiting for the next time somebody turns the key in her back.

To be at least somewhat helpful, Trixie grabs both their beer bottles and brings them over to the counter. She _is_ hungry, she notices when whatever is heating up in the microwave starts smelling of garlic. It’s barely gone _ding_ when Katya has already pulled the door open and with bare hands grabbed the container, whirling around to drop it on the island to a chant of _hot hot hot hot hot_.

Trixie bites down on her lip to keep herself from smiling. She already knew Katya was hot, but she hadn’t known she was adorable.

While the second undefined meal is heating up, Katya grabs a dish towel and opens the lid. Through the little ventilation hole the garlic smell had been present but it becomes nearly overpowering now.

“So…” Trixie leans back a little so the food isn’t right in front of her face. “Is your friend a good cook?”

Katya grins. “Nope.”

Trixie snorts.

“Under normal circumstances I’d order something in but…” Katya trails off and waves one hand at the static of snow and darkness in front of the window.

After a few minutes, Katya pulls the second dish out of the microwave, and together they stare at the two steaming containers. The garlicky smelling one is a green mush that Trixie suspects is mainly spinach. The other one is a yellowish-brown goo that Katya speculates is either some kind of chickpea thing or diarrhea. She looks up at Trixie with a grin.

“Which one would you like?”

Trixie snorts and silently pulls the spinach dish towards her. 

“Smart choice. I think.” Katya hands her a fork, and they both carefully take a bite straight out of the tupperware, sitting side by side at the counter.

Trixie’s isn’t bad, it just really seems to be only spinach and garlic, so she grabs the saltshaker and goes to town with it. When she’s done, Katya holds out her hand, and Trixie passes it to her. They eat silently for a minute. 

“It’s not nearly as bad as it looks,” Katya says.

Trixie nods, then adds, “The cold middle kind of improves it.” 

The look at each other, both nodding for a moment before Trixie shrieks and Katya wheezes, her hand finding Trixie’s knee and squeezing. The touch travels through her jeans like electricity and settles between her legs. It makes her gasp slightly, but Katya is still so busy laughing that Trixie is sure she doesn’t notice. 

Once they’ve both calmed down, Katya’s hand tightly grips Trixie’s forearm and with shining eyes she very sincerely assures her, “I want you to know that I am usually a fairly normal person who can feed themselves.”

Trixie makes another embarrassing high-pitched noise.

"Are you?" With her thumb she points over her shoulder at the decorated coat rack. " _Really?_ "

Katya follows her line of sight, grins and then shrugs. 

"I said _fairly_ normal." She squeezes Trixie's arm once more before letting go and returning to her meal. 

"I hope I'm not getting in the way of your Christmas plans?" Trixie asks in an attempt to find out if Katya is maybe seeing somebody. It would explain why she's being so _platonic_.

"Nope, I got no plans this year. I thought I did, but then I got ditched, so now I'm on my own," Katya explains cheerfully through a mouthful of questionable food.

Ah. So she’s been recently broken up with. "Oh, wow. Me too." 

“Yeah, I was gonna spend the holidays with my parents, and then a few weeks ago my mom goes ‘Oh, didn’t we mention? Your dad and I are going to Japan for three weeks.’” Katya stuffs another bite into her mouth and carries on talking while she’s chewing. “Like that’s a thing people do. And without telling me, their favorite child! At least I thought I was, but apparently I’m just chopped liver.” During that whole explanation she’s lively and unbothered, and Trixie gets caught up in her easy-going nature, smiling along.

Until Katya asks, “What about you?”

“I was supposed to visit my girlfriend’s family, but she’s not my girlfriend anymore,” Trixie says as quickly and evenly as she can.

Katya bares her teeth in an uncomfortable grimace. “I’m sorry about that.”

"Don't be." Trixie dismisses it with a wave of her hand. "It wasn't a huge loss." Then she realizes something and with an exaggerated wink adds, “I don’t have a broken heart.”

Katya’s face is blank. “Right.”

“Because of--” Trixie blinks a few times, expecting Katya to catch up without her actually having to explain, but she doesn’t. “That’s the hit single of my new album?” It’s a fact, not a question, but Trixie can’t quite believe that Katya doesn’t know. That’s probably on her. She doesn’t expect everyone to know her and her music, but she kind of expects every gay person to know her. Her own personal blizzard builds in her chest when she considers the possibility of Katya being straight.

“Ohhh, right!” Katya nods with the realization. “I have a confession to make. I don’t know any of your music, but that’s because I mainly listen to Russian 90’s pop.”

Trixie barks out a laugh in surprise. “Oh, so you’re just a weirdo. Got it.”

“Yeah, what did _you_ think?” Katya asks and snorts.

Trixie considers evading for a moment, but decides against it. “That you’re straight.”

Katya scoffs open-mouthed and raises one hand to her heart at the slight. “I feel violated.”

Trixie laughs, both because of Katya’s over the top reaction and because she’s flooded with relief.

“Thank God you’re not. What a waste that would be.”

Katya visibly fights a grin. “Careful, Miss Mattel, or I might think you’re flirting with me.”

“Would that be so bad?” She makes a show of popping another bite into her mouth and slowly pulling the fork out from between her lips. 

“What? You flirting with me or me thinking that you are?”

“Either. Both.” Trixie gives up any pretense of caring about the food and puts her fork down. She rests her elbow on the counter and her chin on her hand.

For a moment Katya smiles down at her lap before meeting Trixie’s eyes. “Well, that very much depends on whether or not it would put you in an uncomfortable situation if I’m wrong. Since you’re, you know, stuck here with me with nowhere else to go. And I would hate for that to be the case,” she explains gently.

Trixie bites down on her lip. “Right, but what if hypothetically _someone_ would put themselves into this situation, thinking that’s where it was going?”

“Well, then that someone would have to let me know.” Katya has lowered her voice, but their faces are close enough now that Trixie can understand her easily.

“Maybe she’s tried,” Trixie says with her eyes on Katya’s mouth that’s pulling into a grin now.

“Maybe she should try harder.”

Katya closes the space between them. She's so much warmer than Trixie. That's the first thing she notices when their lips are pressed together. Katya tastes vaguely of chickpeas, and for a moment Trixie is painfully aware of the amount of garlic she's just consumed. Then Katya's fingers gently stroke her cheek, and Trixie's mouth drops open with a muffled sigh.

Katya carefully cups Trixie’s face in both hands, like she’s fresh water in a desert. She kisses with intent, and Trixie can’t remember a single kiss that has ever made her feel this cherished before. 

Trixie comes out of it light-headed and can’t bring herself to open her eyes. She sucks her lower lip into her mouth to not let the lingering warmth melt away. 

When it does anyway, Trixie murmurs, “Again.”

Katya laughs quietly, and her breath puffs against Trixie’s cheek. But then she kisses her again, and this time her hand settles high on Trixie’s thigh, squeezing gently. Trixie does open her eyes when they pull back, and she grins.

“Have I made it clear what I want?”

Katya puts on a fake expression of doubt. “I can be very dense. I think I need a more detailed demonstration.”

Trixie snorts. “How detailed?”

Katya grabs Trixie’s hand and gets up, pulling Trixie with her. “Oh, I want to make sure I get all the finer points.”

Trixie laughs out of pure joy and lets Katya lead her to the bedroom. There, Katya lets go of Trixie for a moment, just long enough to turn on the bedside lamp, giving herself a golden glow. This time it’s Trixie who leans in for the kiss. She buries her hands in Katya’s hair that’s finer than her own and platinum blonde rather than the warm honey of Trixie’s. 

Katya’s fingers are scorchingly hot where they sneak underneath Trixie’s sweater, and she pulls back a little.

“God, you’re freezing! You know, if you’re just looking for a way to warm yourself up, I could give you a blanket or something.”

Trixie pulls her sweater over her head, her t-shirt coming off with it. She brushes her hair out of her face.

“I didn’t come here for a blanket.”

Katya doesn’t reply. She’s unabashedly staring at Trixie’s breasts. After the photoshoot Trixie changed into her most comfortable clothes, including a hot pink sports bra. It’s not her number one choice for seducing a woman, but it clearly works on Katya. Then it dawns on Trixie that there’s no way she can take it off in an appealing way.

“Close your eyes,” Trixie says after a moment of deliberation with herself.

“What?” Katya looks from her chest up to Trixie’s face with a blank expression.

“I need to get this off, and I’m trying to maintain an air of allure.”

Katya snorts but then does as she’s told. While her eyes are closed, Trixie first wrestles off her bra and then lets her jeans and socks follow. She leaves her underwear on. Katya can do the honors later. There’s an armchair in the corner piled with Katya’s clothes, so Trixie lays hers over the armrest. 

“Can I open my eyes again?” Katya asks with a grin when Trixie’s knee hits the mattress and the bed frame groans.

“No!” Trixie barks. Katya laughs and raises both hands in an appeasing gesture.

“Alright, I’ll just wait here while you art direct us having sex.”

“Shut up!” Trixie screeches as she arranges herself on her side on top of the duvet. “We’re not having sex yet, and I can still tell you to go sleep on the couch.” 

“Sure.” Katya grins, but keeps her eyes closed. 

“Okay, you can open them,” Trixie tells her when she’s finished propping up her boobs. When Katya sees her she whimpers.

“You’re so beautiful.” Her voice has gone soft and silky like dark chocolate, and Trixie revels in it.

“So are you.” Trixie looks up at Katya through her lashes. “Get naked so I can see you better.”

Katya breathes a little laugh and unbuttons her jeans. As she balances on one leg to pull them off, she says, “I don’t think it’s fair you get to watch this when I didn’t.”

Trixie rolls her eyes. “Just get on with it.”

“Bossy.”

“Assertive,” Trixie argues.

“Hot,” Katya offers and pulls her shirt off, letting it drop to the floor.

Trixie licks her lips as Katya not only reveals a lacy black bralette but a multitude of tattoos covering her arms and shoulders. “Definitely.”

Then Katya is on her, her soft, warm lips traveling from her mouth over her jaw and then further downwards. Gently but without hesitation she pushes Trixie’s breasts together and buries her face in them, making Trixie laugh softly.

“You know, I was just gonna quietly jerk off on the couch once you’d gone to bed, but this is so much better,” Katya says when she emerges from Trixie’s cleavage. Trixie just slings one arm around her neck and pulls her into another kiss. Meanwhile Katya’s hands stroke down her body, not with a goal, just exploring and appreciating. She doesn’t skirt around the soft round over Trixie’s stomach or the broad curves of her hips. It’s exhilarating not just to be touched but for Katya to see all that she is and not pull back.

While all of that is very nice, Trixie is desperate for Katya to fuck her. To let her know, Trixie presses her hips up and then keens when Katya ignores her. In response Katya chuckles against Trixie’s neck.

“I know for a fact that you have nothing else to do today, so calm down.” She pushes up on her elbows, and then laughs when she sees Trixie’s sullen expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Trixie isn’t in the mood to be patient. It’s not obvious with a decent layer of fat covering Trixie’s muscles, but she’s used to lugging her equipment all over the world; she’s strong. Katya learns that the hard way when Trixie suddenly surges up and flips them, straddling Katya’s hips. She blinks up at Trixie with astonishment, then quickly settles her hand on Trixie’s hips that have started moving in circles. 

Trixie is rubbing against her own panties and Katya underneath, and if she was desperate enough, she might just come like that. But she doesn’t want to. She wants Katya to make her come. So Trixie pushes up on her knees and pulls her underwear down. She doesn’t get far in the position she’s in, so she rolls off Katya long enough to pull it all the way off. Then she swings her leg over Katya’s face right away.

“Okay?”

“God, yes,” Katya gasps, hooks her hands around Trixie’s thighs from below and pulls her onto her face. 

Katya wastes no time now. Her tongue is moving all over Trixie’s hot, swollen skin, but never comes close to where she needs her. Trixie pushes her hips down harder, rubs herself against Katya’s face, and she moans into Trixie’s pussy. Trixie brushes her fingers through Katya’s hair, softly at first, until she’s got a good fistful, and then she pulls. Katya retaliates by slapping Trixie’s thigh, and it stings just the right way. The sensation makes her lift her hips enough that Katya can gasp for air, and Trixie stares down at her wet, pink face and her heavy eyes. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, and it makes her tattoos look like they’re alive. She’s smiling dreamily.

“And here I thought you were a nice country girl.”

Trixie grins. “I think I’m being exceptionally nice.” 

Then she lowers her hips again. This time Katya’s lips close around her clit and she sucks. From behind she pushes two fingers into Trixie, sliding in all the way to her knuckles right away. Trixie moans and twitches, unsure whether to chase Katya’s fingers or press into her mouth. It makes her movements jerky while Katya keeps a steady rhythm. Trixie knows she’s almost there by how hot she feels, how her toes and the tips of her fingers are tingling. 

“I’m close,” she gasps. Katya sucks harder and her fingers speed up, the obscene wet sound it makes joining that of Trixie’s ragged breathing. She feels herself teetering on the edge for what seems like a century but can’t be more than five seconds, and then her whole body tenses, her hips pumping over Katya’s face uncontrollably. Trixie rides it out until her legs are compliant again. Then she rolls off Katya and scoots down so they can lie face to face. For a moment they’re both catching their breath, then Trixie reaches for Katya’s jaw and leans in to kiss her. Even though she’s completely wrung out, tasting herself in Katya’s mouth makes something flicker alive in Trixie’s belly again. 

She brushes Katya’s hair out of her face and softly asks, “What do you want?”

Katya hums, her eyes fluttering shut, and for a moment she leans into Trixie’s touch. Then she opens her eyes again, and there’s nothing left of her dreamy expression. 

“It’s okay, I can do it myself.”

Trixie blinks in confusion. “Right, but you don’t _have_ to. I’m right here.”

“No, I know, it’s just…” She sighs. “I need something very specific to come, and past hook-ups didn’t always wanna bother with that. It’s fine!” she quickly assures Trixie. 

“It’s not,” Trixie argues with a frown on her face. This is a matter of pride for her now. She’s determined to prove she’s not a selfish pillow princess who just takes what she wants and leaves her partner to deal with her own needs by herself. “What do you need?”

“Uhm.” Katya looks at her for a moment, maybe trying to figure out if Trixie means it. When she doesn’t move, Katya sits up and turns towards her bedside table. Trixie can hear her pull a drawer open and sits up too. Katya quickly finds what she’s looking for. On top of the duvet in between them she sets down a bottle of lube, a curved vibrator, and a toy with a nozzle. That’s the one Katya points at first.

“So that goes on my clit, it, like…” she trails off, making grabby hands in the air as she searches for the right words.

“Oh, I’ve seen those before! Suction and waves, right?” Trixie picks the toy up to look at it more closely. “I’ve never tried anything like that. I’m very old-fashioned; just stuff something in me and I’m good.”

Katya shrieks in a sudden burst of laughter and grabs Trixie’s knee before leaning in to kiss her again. It’s not the kind of kiss that leads anywhere. It just says _I like you and I’m glad I’m here with you_.

“Right, so you put that on my clit with plenty of lube,” she goes back to explaining, “and then, when I tell you I’m ready, you put the vibrator on a low setting, push it against my g-spot and hold it there. You just need to hold it.”

Trixie nods dutifully. “Got it.”

Katya’s hands flutter around herself, like she doesn’t know what to do now that the attention is all on her.

“Sorry, I’m always a bit high-strung.”

Trixie catches her hands out of the air and intertwines their fingers. 

“I can see that.” She kisses Katya until her nervous energy has settled. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.” 

With steady hands Trixie reaches for Katya’s bralette, stroking gently over the edge of the lace before pulling it over Katya’s head. She raises her arms to help and then slumps down with her shoulders pushed down and forward, making herself smaller. Trixie places a kiss in the hollow of her throat and then follows her collarbones, first one, then the other. It makes Katya pull her shoulders back until she no longer looks like she’s trying to curl up. Trixie smiles, and her hands start tracing the tattoos on Katya’s arms.

“You’re so beautiful.”

Trixie just lightly taps Katya’s sternum, and she lies back, spreading out in front of Trixie. She maneuvers herself in between Katya’s legs and leans down to kiss her stomach before scraping her teeth over the soft curve of it. Katya shudders with it and audibly exhales. For a moment Trixie soothingly strokes Katya’s thighs. Then she hooks her fingers underneath Katya’s panties and pulls them down, Katya lifting her hips to help.

Trixie doesn’t reach for the toys right away. She lets her fingertips drift from Katya’s knees up the soft skin at the inside of her thighs, making Katya spread her legs further. Trixie keeps her touch light, even as she reaches Katya's labia. They're hot against Trixie's fingers, and when she parts them she's greeted by wetness. Trixie doesn't push in further, just runs her fingertips over her softly and then moves up to Katya's clit. 

She twitches at the first touch, and Trixie makes sure to be very gentle. None of this is what Trixie had expected. When Katya led the way to the bedroom, Trixie painted a mental image of lying on a mountain of pillows while Katya rails her with a strap-on. Not that Katya hadn't done her part, Trixie just hadn't pictured her being quite so soft. It makes her want to gather Katya against her chest while they sleep. There will be time for that later. For now, Trixie has some very particular instructions to follow.

The unfamiliar toy isn’t hard to figure out, and Trixie heeds Katya’s remark about using plenty of lube. It takes some adjusting to get it to line up right, with help from Katya. She doesn’t need to say when Trixie gets it right. Her eyes roll back into her head and her mouth drops open. Trixie isn’t used to just having to hold something in place, but it leaves her enough focus to run her other hand over Katya’s body. She rakes her short nails up Katya’s side and over her small breasts, coming close to her nipples but not touching them. 

Katya looks at her with barely open eyes, silent except for her quiet gasps. Every now and then her stomach tenses, and Trixie gives it a little kiss. 

“Is this good?” she asks close to Katya’s skin. 

Katya just nods open-mouthed. With one hand still holding the toy in place Trixie lays down next to Katya, slings one leg over hers and then kisses her. 

“I’ve got you,” Trixie quietly repeats when she pulls back. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of you.”

Katya bites her lip and nods. With her thumb Trixie rubs over the lines that have formed between Katya's eyebrows until she starts to relax. This time it’s Katya who searches her out for another kiss. There is urgency in it and a desperation that Trixie feels proud to have created. 

“I’m ready.” Katya’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, and Trixie reaches for the vibrator. 

“I need some help.” Trixie jerks her chin towards the bottle of lube that she carelessly discarded earlier. She’s not going to move the toy that she’s got in the right place, and Katya struggles to open the lube and drizzle some over the vibrator that Trixie holds out to her. 

“Spread it,” Trixie instructs her, and Katya whines, but wraps her hand around the silicone stroking up and down once before grabbing Trixie’s thigh with her wet hand as her hips stutter. She doesn’t look like she needs the second toy to come, but Trixie said she’d give her what she wants. Back in between Katya’s legs she starts pushing into her, going slower than she needs to.

With more instructions from Katya -- _No, higher, higher, yeah almost, oh God, yes!_ \-- Trixie finds the right spot and holds the vibrator in place too. It leaves Trixie with both her hands occupied, so all she can do is talk.

“You’re so beautiful like this. Those girls you slept with before who didn’t want to make you come were idiots.” 

Katya’s mouth pulls into a grin, and Trixie keeps talking.

“There’s no better feeling than making an insanely hot woman come, even if it takes work. You’re worth the effort.” Katya groans and Trixie pushes the vibrator in a little further. “You deserve someone doing everything right for you.”

One of Katya’s legs kicks out, and she’s sobbing dryly. Trixie looks down at her with a gentle smile.

“Come for me, baby.”

That she does seems to take Katya by surprise, but it doesn’t keep her from crying out as her whole body shakes. 

“Off, off, off,” she whispers with a paper-thin voice when it’s over, blindly reaching for Trixie’s hands, so Trixie quickly turns off both toys and drops them off the bed. Then she wrestles them under the covers and wraps her arms around Katya, pulling her close.

“You’re not at all what I expected,” Katya says through an airy laugh, still catching her breath.

Trixie grins and presses her lips against Katya’s temple. “Neither are you.”

*

Trixie is awoken by the storm still raging outside the window. Inside it’s eerily quiet, and when she tries to turn on the bedside lamp, it stays dark. Next to her Katya grumbles something unintelligible as she wakes up.

“What? What’s happening?” she finally manages to string together, blinking at Trixie from underneath her bangs that are sticking up in all directions.

“The power is out.”

Katya scrambles out of bed and pulls back the curtain. “Wow.”

It must be early; it's still pitch black outside, and there's no light from the street or any other windows. The wind is howling through cracks in the building, and for a moment Trixie feels like a little kid again, hiding under her blanket when branches of the tree in front of the house knocked against her window. 

She reaches for her phone charging on the bedside table, or at least it was supposed to. It got up to 54 percent before the power died. Trixie pulls it from the now useless cord. It’s only just past 6, but they went to sleep early, both exhausted. She’s got a notification that her alternate flight for today has also been cancelled. When she tells Katya, she climbs back into bed, sticking her freezing feet right between Trixie’s calves, and then rests her chin on Trixie’s shoulder so she can read it for herself.

“I’m sorry you’re not getting home today.” As she says it, her hand briefly settles on Trixie’s waist before it wanders up to squeeze one of her tits through the shirt she lent Trixie. It’s tight across her chest and short on her frame, but it’s the only thing Katya has that fits her at all. Katya is in a similar shirt, but on her it’s a dress.

“Yes, you seem really sorry,” Trixie remarks with a dry smile. Katya grins back but lets go so she can wrap both arms around Trixie’s waist from behind.

“You can stay as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

It’s an uncomfortable angle for kissing, but neither of them is willing to move. As Katya hums into her mouth, Trixie thinks how comfortably they fell into this. Truth be told, she’s not any more sorry to be stuck here than Katya is. She tries hard not to think beyond today. The gurgling of her stomach interrupts the moment, and Katya laughs. 

“Should we try for some more of Courtney’s culinary excursions or should we raid my cupboards?”

“Cupboards, definitely,” Trixie decides.

The living room is gently illuminated by the lights on the Christmas coat rack. They must be running on batteries. On the breakfast bar yesterday’s dinners have congealed in their tupperware containers, and Katya quickly scrapes the leftovers into the trash. She tells Trixie to check if she can find anything edible she’d like, and armed with the flashlight from her phone Trixie pulls a loaf of bread out of a cupboard along with eggs and milk from the fridge. Crammed into one corner of the kitchen is a revolving spice rack, clearly prefilled and with most of the jars still full. Probably a not very successful Christmas present from another year, judging by the dust that covers the top. Trixie ignores that and grabs the ground cinnamon. 

Katya looks impressed when Trixie casually says she’s making French toast. She doesn’t mention that it’s been at least a year since she made it last, back then to impress Pearl on one of the rare days they had time for breakfast together. So while Katya wanders around the apartment, collecting all her candles to light the kitchen with them, Trixie quickly googles a recipe to make sure she doesn’t screw up the measurements.

Apart from some burnt edges she does a pretty good job, and they eat their French toast by candlelight on the couch, still in their respective sleep shirts. Once they’ve both set their plates down, Trixie asks Katya if she can eat her out.

“You really don’t have to,” Katya placates her.

“Yeah, but _can_ I?” Trixie asks with an eye roll. “Because I really enjoy doing it and if you enjoy having it done to you--”

“I definitely do,” Katya interjects.

Trixie carries on with a smile, “then there’s no reason why I wouldn’t. Like, making you come is great but it’s not all I wanna do. I can still get out the big guns afterwards.”

Katya bites her lip. “I just don’t want you to get frustrated. It’s happened before.”

"You seriously need to raise your standards for who you sleep with,” Trixie scoffs. “Not too high, though. I still wanna have a chance,” she deadpans, and Katya shrieks. 

“If you’re fishing for compliments, you’ll have to do more.”

With a grin Trixie lets herself slide from the couch onto the floor and crawls between Katya’s legs. “I’m trying.”

As Katya had predicted, Trixie’s mouth is not enough for her, but when Trixie offers to take it to the bedroom, she waves the offer away, telling Trixie to just get back on the couch and kiss her. 

The power comes back with the unmistakable humming of the fridge. They still keep the lights out and the candles burning. They doze side by side on the sofa with a blanket thrown over them until it gets stiflingly hot in the living room. The blizzard has calmed down enough that Katya can crack open a window for a few minutes. Then she’s standing in the middle of the room as if she forgot what she came there to do.

“I’m pretty sure I’m out of clean underwear so I gotta put the laundry on. Do you want me to wash your stuff so you can fly home in clean clothes?”

The offer is oddly touching in its practicality. Katya is so genuinely considerate, and it makes Trixie wanna eat her out again. Instead she just nods. In the bedroom she quickly picks her clothes off the floor and haphazardly folds them before putting them into a little pile on the bed.

As Trixie watches Katya check the pockets of her pants for forgotten tissues and hair ties, she's hit by the realization that this is the kind of intimacy she never shared with Pearl. Their relationship existed mostly when they went out. They were only in love on neutral ground. 

It's not enough anymore; Trixie wants to have all there is. 

She doesn’t tell Katya that. When they’re back on the couch under the blanket, Ratatouille on the TV screen, she doesn’t tell her either that watching TV together satisfies a need Trixie didn’t know she had. It’s not just that she wants a normal relationship with somebody who’s not ready at a moment’s notice to get on a plane. It has to be the right person. She’s not insane enough to think it’s Katya; not with them meeting only yesterday. But right now Katya _feels_ right.

They laze away the rest of the day. Trixie falls asleep to an old episode of Star Trek and briefly wakes up when Katya puts down a sleeve of crackers on the coffee table. In the background she can hear the dryer rumbling, and together with the still half-dark room it quickly lulls her to sleep again.

When she jolts awake from a strange dream she’s forgotten all about the moment her eyes are open, she feels like she slept for days but it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed with the overcast sky keeping them in perpetual dusk.

“Oh, hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Katya greets her gently but with a grin. She’s sitting up with Trixie’s feet in her lap, her phone in hand. 

“How long was I asleep?” Trixie mumbles, still not moving.

“A few hours.” 

“I hope I didn’t keep you prisoner.” She bumps her toes against Katya’s thigh, and she snorts.

“No, I got up a few times. You were _out_. If you hadn’t snored I would have been worried you died.”

Trixie hopes the low light doesn’t let Katya see that she’s blushing. She clears her throat.

“Right, that would have looked bad for you. Country music star with no pants found dead on your couch.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Katya says emphatically. “How would I dispose of the body in a blizzard? The ground is frozen, and I couldn’t keep you here. My freezer is full of bad meals I don’t want to eat.”

“Cannibalism would be your only choice.”

Katya nods sagely and repeats, “My only choice.”

For dinner they settle for pasta with ketchup rather than another freezer mystery meal. Trixie enjoys it more than she would enjoy fancy restaurant food eaten with anybody else. The last weeks and months of constant work are finally catching up with her, and despite having napped for half the day she keeps yawning through whatever movie Katya has put on. She gives up after a short while and lets Katya take her to bed.

This time Trixie gets her fantasy of lying back and letting Katya push into her over and over, gently moving with her until her orgasm washes over her warm and mellow. She knows what to do now, and it doesn’t take Katya long either with Trixie murmuring gentle encouragement. 

“It’s been years since I slept with someone two days in a row. I mean like, really _slept_ ,” Trixie confesses quietly when Katya is spooning her, and she presses a kiss to the back of Trixie’s neck.

“It’s been years since somebody else made me come,” Katya replies. Trixie can hear the grin in her voice, but she’s still certain it’s true. Her hand finds Katya’s on her belly, and she intertwines their fingers before drifting off.

*

Christmas Day greets them with clear blue skies and no sign that there ever was a blizzard, except for the thick blanket of snow Trixie can see on the parked cars in the street. She’s alone, but she can hear Katya clanging around in the kitchen. At the foot of the bed sits a pile of her clothes, washed and folded meticulously. 

She’s going home today. The thought only brings her a feeling of dread. 

With her clothes pressed to her chest, Trixie sneaks into the bathroom, getting a glimpse of Katya doing the dishes. She showers with Katya’s soap, something herbal, earthy, and comforting. Her shampoo is citrusy and bright, and it surrounds Trixie when she blow-dries her hair. Her clothes smell of the same subtle detergent as Katya’s sheets. A few tears bubble up out of nowhere and Trixie quickly wipes them away with the sleeve of her sweater. 

She was always going to leave. She shouldn’t even have come here in the first place. It wasn’t the plan, and Trixie is so good at plans. It’s been two days; they don’t know each other and Katya certainly doesn’t owe her anything. All she did was offer Trixie a place to stay. It was Trixie who made it something else. She wouldn’t have, had she known it would make leaving so hard.

“Merry Christmas,” she quietly says when she comes out of the bathroom, and Katya whips around to her, almost dropping her dishtowel. 

“Merry Christmas.” She smiles for a moment. Then she just looks sad. “When do you have to go?”

Trixie pulls her phone off the charger; this time it’s at 100 percent. There’s a notification from the Delta app telling her she needs to confirm her re-re-booked flight for 2pm. She doesn’t.

“I’ve got a few hours.”

Katya nods, and Trixie waits for her to say something. _Anything_ that acknowledges that this wasn’t just a fun way to pass the time. At least a _I’m glad you ended up here._ But Katya goes back to putting her dried plates into the cabinet. With nothing else to do, Trxie does what she always does when she’s out of ideas: she gets her guitar and settles with it on the sofa. As she tunes it, she can see Katya freeze with her back to Trixie. But she doesn’t turn around, so Trixie starts singing the first song that comes to mind.

The words of Joni Mitchell’s River pour out of her without Trixie having to think about it. She’s played it so often that her hands find the right strings by themselves, and she closes her eyes as she sings. She’s only made it to the first chorus when she hears steps approaching. She opens her eyes to Katya bending down to kiss her, cradling Trixie’s face in both hands. Trixie lets her, barely kissing her back.

Katya’s breath is still hot against her mouth. “Stay.”

“What?” Trixie blinks a few times, not believing Katya really said what she heard.

“Don’t go home. Not yet,” Katya confirms, and then sinks to her knees in front of the couch so they’re at eye level. “I don’t want you to get on that plane and us never to see each other again. I don’t think I’ve ever clicked with someone in the way I have with you. Please stay.”

Trixie carefully sets her guitar down before she throws her arms around Katya’s neck.

“I don’t have to go today,” she says breathlessly. “Or even tomorrow. And I don’t want to spend Christmas alone.”

Katya gives her a crooked smile. “Is that what this is?”

“No.” This is not the time for flirting. “I have spent Christmas alone plenty of times and it was always fine. But I don’t want to anymore, not when you want me here.”

“I do.” Katya’s large eyes are earnest, and Trixie can’t help but kiss her again.

After they decide that Trixie should stay for another three days, Katya giddily suggests a trip to the park to frolic in the snow. It’s only a short walk from her apartment, but by the time they get there Trixie’s sneakers are completely soaked. Katya’s boots are very cool but not made for actual winter weather either. They only stay long enough to make snow angels and half-heartedly chuck a few snowballs at each other. They kiss in the fresh snow with not another person in sight. It’s late enough that the regular dog walkers are done and early enough that everybody else is still at home, unwrapping presents under the tree. The world is quiet around them, and Trixie feels at peace, but with joy bubbling below the surface, bursting out of her in unprompted laughter and making her hands reach for Katya’s coat, her hands, her face. 

Trixie doesn’t say anything cheesy like Katya being the best Christmas present she could ever get, but she thinks it and refuses to be ashamed. As they walk back to Katya’s place arm in arm, with freezing fingers tucked under the back of each other’s jackets, Trixie thinks that she could see herself here. Maybe it's time for a change. Maybe she's outgrown LA, and New York is where she could come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts here in the comments or on tumblr where you can find me at [connyhascontrol](https://connyhascontrol.tumblr.com/).


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